


Weary Traveler

by greysyd



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Antarctic Empire, F/M, Fantasy, Fluff, King Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), The Nether (Minecraft), Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), is nobody gonna adopt this kid? fine ill do it myself, its just phil stealing a child, thats it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29434416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greysyd/pseuds/greysyd
Summary: The kid found him, poking him awake and presenting him with a healing potion in exchange for one of his golden gauntlets.Phil took it without another thought. Piglins had followed around before when they spotted his gold so he brushed it off. He got out of the forest quickly, though, where there was one piglin there was at least five more, and Phil didn’t have much gold on him to let him slide past any hunting parties.(Phil steals a kid and Kristin is tired)
Relationships: Kristin Rosales Watson/Phil Watson, Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 275





	Weary Traveler

Phil knew he would be marrying Kristin since the day they met. The prince and daughter of a nobleman, their relationship was all but arranged. 

They had met at a party held by his parents, the King and Queen of the new Antarctic Empire. They were fortunately sat next to each other and spent the whole night ignoring the speeches and celebration to talk. Phil had dragged her into the library as the adults started to mingle and spent the night discussing every book Phil could reach, from dimension jumping to tales of the End, watching the wonder grow in her eyes as he fished another book down. Before they knew it it was sunrise and a guard had found them. They trailed down the hallway, wrapped in wool cloaks, and promised to spend the rest of the celebration together.

And they stuck together ever since. Kristin was always there. A hand combing through his wings, a shoulder to lean on, helping him through his studies. Phil kept her letters in a box under his desk. They grew in their flight feathers and learned how to fly together. He held her hand, heart pounding, watching the arctic lights. She was there, holding his hand in the snow at his parent’s funeral. In the front row as he was crowned king.

So when Phil had essentially kidnapped a child Piglin, he knew who he had to turn to.

Kristin’s estate, a tall, dark mansion surrounded by trees and fields, sat on the outskirts of the city, but the distance from where Phil had stepped out of the portal was only an hour on horseback. The home towered over the spruce trees. Phil slowed his horse on the path, heart in his throat. Maybe he should have come up with a good story before barging in and dropping a kid in his friend’s lap. 

A voice cut through the silent evening, startling Phil and his horse. The mare jerked her head in the direction of the noise and Phil scrambled for a tighter hold on the boy hidden in his winter cloak on his lap. The boy, hidden under the thick fabric, dug deeper as a gust of autumn wind cut through Phil’s clothes.

A servant stood on the stairs leading up to the tall door, watching him approach. Phil led the horse up to the home, shifting in his saddle as it really caught up to him. He had snatched a child from a completely different dimension, and was now trying to hide in his closest friend’s home. What a king he was, Phil thought, swallowing his anxiety that made his hands shake. 

“King Philza,” The servant bowed as he dismounted unsteadily, the kid in his lap realising they were moving. He squirmed, trying to get his head out of layers of fabric, before Phil pressed him to his chest and away from the servant’s curious gaze.

She took the reign of the mare and led her away. Phil let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, glancing up at the familiar house and relaxing his grip on his cloak. The boy squealed, head butting Phil’s chest. He started to pull the cloak back before he heard an even angrier shriek. 

“Don’t like the cold, huh, mate?” He laughed, walking up the stairs with the boy on his hip. He felt small under the shadow of the home, the only source of warmth was a kid he didn’t even know who had followed him into the Overworld.

The door creaked open suddenly, and a servant stared at him in surprise, movements stuttering as they hesitantly stepped back to let him in. Phil visiting wasn’t exactly uncommon, so he guessed she was new and brushed past.

The interior of Kristin’s home hadn’t changed since he had been here last. Curtains lined the walls, despite the lack of windows due to how cold the winter got. The dark hall led to a sitting room, where a fire flickered.

The heat inside sank into his bones and dragged him down- or that was the heavy kid hidden in his arms. Both were fair guesses. He thought of the now familiar warmth of the Nether. The abrupt change of temperature was like when he stepped through the portal. He couldn’t imagine what the boy was feeling. The coldest land he could find in the Nether were the sand valleys, and even those had lava pools and fire.

“Lady Kristin will be down in a moment,” The shaky voice of a servant dragged Phil’s attention back, and he dismissed the nervous girl to wait. He settled at the end of the winding staircase before the creature he was holding realised the room wasn’t cold.

The Piglin poked his head out, big ears flopped over his curly pink hair and his big, red eyes stared up at Phil expectantly. Phil’s heart tugged helplessly at the sight of the child, barely hidden in his cloak, snuffling the downy fur tickling his cheek and fidgeting uncomfortable. His eyes landed on the fire and started writhing and pointing. He was clearly drawn to heat, and it struck Phil that he really was an idiot. He took a Piglin child, a species he knew nothing about, and brought him to the coldest Kingdom in the world. What did they even eat? Carrots? Meat? Human flesh? There wasn’t a book on this.

Phil shifted, drawing his wings up and spreading them out around him as he tugged the cape away. His wings encircled them, sheltered from curious eyes and any drafts. The boy snorted and twisted around, little hands reaching for his black feathers. He squealed and hit Phil’s arm angrily when he drew his wing just out of reach. 

“Sorry kid, I learned from the first time.” Phil grinned when the boy scowled darkly, almost like he understood his words.

He let his cloak drop unceremoniously to the floor, adjusting the kid on his hip and drawing a wing down enough to look around. The boy lifted his head too, eyes wide. His smile faltered when the boy whined, looking to the fire again.

“Phil!” A clear voice made him jump, drawing his wings against his chest and the kid. Kristin descended the stairs two steps at a time. Phil couldn’t help the soft smile at the sight of her, skidding to a halt in front of him, hair wild and eyes bright. “You’re back!”

Right. The Nether. The most dangerous place Phil had been, Kristin had been waiting.

She gave him a weird look, glancing at the spread of his wings. “New greeting?” Kristin laughed, pulling her wings, soft white feathers, against her chest to copy him. “The Nether folk teach you that one? I didn’t think they had wings there.” 

“N-new greeting,” He stuttered, mouth dry. Gods, should he really have done this? Kristin looked at him, brows furrowed.

She reached out, “Are you alright, Phil?” 

“Can we talk in private?” The word of a servant traveled faster than a messenger on horseback these days. 

Kristin brought them into the side room, waving the man sweeping out. The room was warmer than the hallway, Phil noted as the door shut behind them. Kristin sat down, watching his awkward stride with folded wings and a heavy weight on his hip. 

He looked around the room to avoid her stare. The small window had the dark red curtains drawn and redstone light on the ceiling was off, leaving the fireplace the only source of light. Shelves lining the walls had familiar books and clutter, Phil spotted the enchanted skeleton bow he had given Kristin mounted delicately on one shelf. Her family crest banner sat over the fireplace, a bold shape of a polar bear swiping.

Pain shot up his wing, spasming as a hand yanked out one of his primaries. Right, he had to do this. The kid was gonna get bored of being carried around at some point. 

“Okay,” Phil stopped in front of her, anxiety tugging on his heart. The fire left half her face in shadows but he could see how her eyes flit nervously. “Don’t freak out.”

“Sounds like something’s going to happen that’ll make me freak out.” Kristin muttered, sinking deeper into her seat.

Phil drew back his wings, folding them behind him slowly. Kristin's eyes widened, covering her mouth with her hand. There was the kid, one hand clutching Phil’s white shirt, the other holding his black feather. He stared back at Kristin then presented the feather as if to trade.

She looked at the kid, back at Phil, then back to the kid. “Phil,” Her voice pitched up, “Did you have an affair you didn’t tell me of?”

Phil stared at her. “He isn’t  _ mine _ !”

  
  
  
  
  


The heat of the Nether was something Phil had been preparing for. He had been to the Nether before, brief trips to collect anything he could find near his portal before getting out. He had been preparing for months for this journey, water jugs filled to the brim and bag excessively heavy, too heavy to fly. The red haze felt like it clung to his skin, seeping into his pores and feathers. 

He had left his winter clothes at his makeshift portal, left in tight black underclothes and gold and diamond armour. Two weeks, the longest time Phil had stayed, traveling across distance lands to find new people and creatures. He recorded everything in a book, sketching out strange fungi and vines that turned out to be very much  _ not  _ edible, and great bastions with hulking brutes chasing him away before he even got close. He brushed the whiskers of a strider with the help of a piglin for some gold and rode across a lake of lava, almost catching fire in the process. 

Then after a brief stint at a fortress- Phil should have known better than to sneak in- left with his chestplate snapped and half bleeding out, he hid under a soft blue tree. He sank into the soft blue ground, leaning against the faintly glowing bark. He tugged his chestplate off and flung it to the side, sloppily bandaging his chest. His wings ached from jumping off the fortress bridge with too heavy armour and his lungs burned from the blazes’ smoke.

The kid found him, poking him awake and presenting him with a healing potion in exchange for one of his golden gauntlets. 

Phil took it without another thought. Piglins had followed around before when they spotted his gold so he brushed it off. He got out of there quickly though, where there was one piglin there was at least five more, and Phil didn’t have much gold on him to let him slide past any hunting parties.

Then he saw the kid following him out of the blue forest.

“I don’t have any more gold for you.” He said when the boy caught up. He looked surprisingly more human than Phil would have thought. A hybrid, perhaps. He looked at him, arms crossed. His floppy pig ears flicked at a faint cry of a ghast, pink curls hiding half his face. Phil had never seen a Piglin this young, a little bigger than a human five year old. Most kids were kept close with the adults, guarded with golden swords and crossbows. Didn’t he have anyone looking after him?

Panic tugged at his chest when he looked back, expecting to see the rest of the herd, brandishing their weapons and chasing after Phil for taking their child. But nobody came, the dark plains were silent. 

Phil glanced back at the kid, “Do you want something?” He asked, readjusting the straps of his bag. Phil was nearly back to his portal, and his wings fluttered anxiously. 

He stared back at Phil, unmoving. “Okay,” Phil murmured, turning away and speed walking away from the kid. Then, across the soft, hot floor, a soft clop of hooves following him. He was following him. How did he imprint on a piglin of all things.

He walked quicker across the open plains. The valley stretched wide open, bordered by a leaning wall that connected to the top of the world that sloped downward jaggedly. He was hidden from any ghasts in the skies but showing enough down the ridge for Phil to see anything coming for him. The Nether was pretty in an exhausting way. The air, thick with smoke from fiery craters, filled his lungs and left him coughing the first few days. But Phil had adjusted, gotten used to the new atmosphere. 

Soot stuck to his feathers as he stretched out his wings after days of being kept against his back. His feet were sore from walking miles away from the forest, heat tenfold now that the ground wasn’t coated in the soft blue mycelium.

He spotted a lantern, hidden in a nook in the wall. He had to be here. He pulled his notebook out and checked his coords, then the redstone communicator, screen fuzzy with interference. He stopped at a winding set of half formed stairs and spotted the purple wood of his portal hut over the ledge. 

He stopped and so did the hooves. Phil turned to see the child a bit away, watching him. He still looked annoyed, arms half crossed and still holding the gauntlet Phil had given him. He looked sorta pitiful, so small in the vast deserted valley. 

“Kid, go home.” Phil waved his hand away. The boy didn’t bat an eye. “I’m leaving, you can’t follow me.” His scowl deepened, glaring at Phil.

Phil turned his back on his and walked down the stairs. He pretended to not hear the slow footsteps following him.

He really needed a better hut. He traveled through this portal too often to leave it just a mess like this. The purple planks barely held together, and the stone floor cracked from an unfortunate ghast passing by. Phil shuffled the half broken door and looked around. His old bag sat in the corner, still wrapped tightly from the last time he saw it. The portal, a tall ring of black obsidian, stood at the back wall. The purple haze glowed, washing everything in violet.

Phil settled onto the ground next to his bag with a clear view of the door. He slid his old pack off his back and dropped it in his lap. Over the two weeks, he had replaced his food and water with jars and samples of things from the Nether. He tugged out a glass of a red mushroom and held it up, examining it just as the door creaked open.

There he was, little hand tugging on the door. He pressed harder, throwing his body weight behind it. The door gave out with a  _ crack _ , swinging in and plunging the boy into the small room. He fell, barely catching himself on his hands and letting out an ear splitting shriek of surprise, but the first noise Phil had heard from it. He glared up at Phil between a curtain of hair, clearly judging him and his shit architecture skills. A laugh bubbled in his chest and Phil wheezed, gasping for breath as the kid stood up and dusted himself off.

Something hard and cold  _ slammed  _ into his head. Phil jumped, snapping his gaze to the gauntlet that rested in his lap. That asshole. That tiny, angry bastard. Phil almost started laughing again. He looked up to see the boy, red faced and huffing, baring his teeth at him. 

“It’s alright! Jeez,” Phil sat up, rubbing his temple gently. “I didn’t think you’d get that pissed.” 

He shifted and the boy caught sight of his wings. His eyes widened, previous heinous laughter forgotten, and trotted up to Phil. “Never seen wings, buddy?” He unfurled his wing fully, brushing against him. The boy squeaked, jumping away, only to crawl back hesitantly and reach out slowly.

His hand splayed across his feathers. His pink hand was pale against the inky black, gliding like a star through the sky. A tingle ran up his back and he smiled, watching the kid be mesmerized by them. 

Then he grabbed his feather. “Fuck!” Phil yelped, jerking away as he tugged a feather out. He looked at him in confusion, holding a long secondary loosely. His shoulders tensed at Phil’s expression.

Phil sighed, waving his away. The boy stepped back, brows furrowed. Phil shook out his wing. Not the worst injury, hell, not even the worst this week. The white tips of his feathers were still singed from the fortress. He smoothed the ruffled feathers and turned back to see the boy staring at the portal.

He was dwarfed by the height, towering over even Phil. The purple haze rippled like a smooth river, flecks fluttering across his outstretched hand. He stepped closer and pressed his fingers against the portal.

“Careful.” Phil whispered, standing up slowly. The boy, enraptured by the portal, took no notice. He squeaked in excitement as his fingers disappeared in the swirling violet. He looked so small, so naive in the face of powerful magic. Where was his herd, Phil thought again, heart heavy. He shouldn’t be alone in a place like this.

The boy turned to him, pointing at the portal furiously, grinning. It was the first smile Phil had seen from him all day. He barely reached his waist, eyes wide with childish wonder. Phil couldn’t leave him behind now. The terrible kid had grown on him through his ferocity.

He looked to the portal and to the boy. Fuck, he was really going to do this. 

  
  
  
  


“So you stole a piglin from the Nether because he was lonely?” Kristin waved her hands from where she paced. The piglin in question sat in front of the fireplace gate, warming himself under a soft blanket and ignoring her shouting.

“Kristin,” Phil rubbed his face wearily. It was scratchy from scruff and ash still stuck to his cheek. “You should have seen him. There wasn’t a herd for miles, I couldn’t just leave him there.”

“Yes, you could have.” Kristin stopped her angry walk to point at him. “You’re  _ king _ , Phil! You can’t just take in some creature because you wanted to!” Her white wings were fluffed up, twitching with restrained frustration. 

Phil sank into the seat, avoiding her stare. The boy turned and looked back at him, snorted when he saw how Phil was hiding in his feathers. 

Phil looked back at Kristin, “He’s not some creature. Piglins are smart,” Kristin huffed and he pushed through it, “He knows things. I bet he can learn our language too.”

“He’s a kid. He doesn’t belong here.”

“Nether hybrids have been around forever.” Phil shot back.

Kristin sighed, shaking her head. “You don’t know if he’s hybrid, and those raised in the Overworld are different from those from the Nether, you said it yourself!”

“I’m not taking him back.” Phil squared his shoulders. “I don’t care if I have to find him somewhere to go, he didn’t have anyone back there.”

Kristin looked back at the kid. “Does he have a name at least?”

The boy had fallen asleep during their argument. He was buried beneath the blanket, hair spilling out and hiding his face. The light from the fireplace made him look red. 

Phil remembered an old tale he had read, a brief phase of being interested in old Gods. A creature bathed in blood and fire. In one hand, a crown spilling red over the world, the other a mighty sword, held high over their head. The god wore a wreath of withering roses and golden daffodils. The people who worshipped them planted them in their path of destruction, spilling and staining the world red. When Phil had first read about them, he had been fascinated, tried to look into it more until his mother stopped him, told him some Gods weren’t meant to be worshipped, Phil should wash his hands of such desires brought by creatures like them.

“Technoblade.” The name, unlike the bitter taste left when he was young, felt right on his tongue. A daunting inheritance, to compare a dead God to a child.

Recognition flashed in Kristin’s eyes. “Powerful name.” Voice clipped, she settled onto the floor a few steps away, looking down at the small boy.

“You should have seen him in the Nether.” His chest warmed as Technoblade rolled over and curled the blanket closer. “I can already tell he’s gonna be a force to be reckoned with.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU i made on my instagram (@greyfeu) if you want more info and almost art >:)  
> also this is the first thing ive written in like four years and i did it in like three days be kind


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